






n^ fl • " • ♦ '^o AT- 
















^^-"^ 



'^* .0^ 
















0* .»j.-^.% ^■i>^,^^;^^\ 




V^ , « • , 







•*'ao< 













Grandma's Spinning Wheel 



Grandma's Spinning Whee^ 

By 
Anna Mackall May 






r-2. 






Copyright, 1912 
Anna Mackall May 



/ 
C!.A.327;)57 



Preface 

Near the headwaters of the beautiful Chesapeake Bay 
in My Maryland stands " Beech-Holm," the scene of the 
true incident related in this simple story. The illus- 
trations are reproductions of recent photographs of the 
house and surroundings. 

The generation now there is the eighth in lineal 
descent from those who began life in the old homestead 
" low and white." 







& ^ 



Grandma's 
Spinning Wheel 




A quaint old dwelling, low and white, 
Nestles moss-crowned adown the lane. 
It seems to rest as if in dream 
Of years long past of joy and pain. 




e2 c 



It seems to rest, its work well done, 
In varied scenes its part it bore, 
But Time has lightly laid his hand 
On beam and eave and latchet door. 



Athwart the yard great beech-trees cast 
A shade so deep that scarce at noon 
The sun-rays dare invade the spot, 
They e'en deny the friendly moon. 



10 



A garden sweet with box and shrub 
And "borders" in old-time array, 
A hill-side orchard where in Spring 
The song-birds trill their roundelay. 



11 







3 w 






A brooklet winding thro' the mead, 
A fern-clad glen with mossy rock, 
A spacious barn whose Autumn hoard 
Gives want and idleness the mock. 



13 



A spring whose pure and limpid depths 
The beeches guard with loving might, 
In easy reach there hangs the gourd, 
A healthful, cooling draught in sight. 



14 



A sweet old picture fair to view 
Is this quaint homestead low and white, 
Its shaded lawn and vine-clad porch 
To peaceful rest and dream invite. 



IS 



Amid the valley lovers roam, 
While children vie the hills to mount, 
Then gather round the kindly board 
And hear Grandma her tales recount 



17 



Of youth and hope when Hfe was fair, 
Her form unbent, her eye yet bright, 
Of other groups once gathered there 
In that old dweUing low and white. 



18 



Of Winter nights, when gathered round 
The oaken fire blazing high, 
Mid whir of wheels to drown the blast 
They little recked how time flew by. 



19 



Of spinning wheels with flyers sharp 
That caught the heedless in their whirl, 
Of glances cast across the fire 
By love-lorn youth or roguish girl. 



21 



The varied pranks that Cupid played, 
(The god was there in all his might), 
Amid the wheels his bow to draw 
Gave him full measure of delight. 



22 



One day as Grandma softly slept 

And smiling dreamed of life when fair, 

The children to the attic crept 

To see what treasure might be there ; 



23 




A Fern-clad Glen With Mossy R< 



And wand'ring round beneath the eaves 
For nook or niche in which to peer, 
Their keen eyes spied amid the gloom 
With cobwebs twined an object queer. 



25 



With eager hold they drew it forth 

And brushed the dust wreaths from around, 

Then bore it merrily to show 

Grandma the odd thing they had found. 



26 



''A wheel between two rods " they said, 
^'A board aslant, some hooks of steel, 
What is its name and what its use, 
And why in attic thus conceal?" 



27 



O'er Grandma's face there came a smile 
As one who would sweet thoughts reveal, 
And tenderly her lips replied, 
^^Ah, me! My dear old spinning wheel. 



28 



Ah ! Darlings, little can you dream 
What memories sweet wake at the name ; 
Again I see myself a girl, 
Around the fire see the same 



29 



Dear faces, feel the warmth and glow 
As up and up the bright sparks fly. 
No idlers there, with mirth and song 
We each our busy fingers ply. 



30 



"And round and round the noisy wheels 
Go merrily as fast we spin, 
While higher grows the fleecy pile 
And louder waxes mirthful din. 



31 



Full well we knew that Farmer John 
Would soon appear his aid to lend: 
Bashful his mien, but true his heart, 
In storm or sunshine e'er our friend. 



32 



''We all knew well he loved our Bess, 
But she was wild and paid no heed 
To Farmer John's imploring looks, 
No matter how his eyes might plead. 



33 



The spinning wheel was turned so fast 
Its whirring speed all else would drown 
While mockingly her laugh rang out, 
And downcast John would sighing frown 



34 



" Thus time rolled on, the months passed by, 
John's hope grew dim, nor goal seemed near. 
One eve again in wonted place 
He closer drew that Bess might hear. 



35 




A Brooklet Winding Thro' the Mead 



But she was in her wildest mood, 
And whirring drove the spinning wheel, 
One look, Alas ! and then John's hand 
Was caught in flyers' hooks of steel. 



37 



" Ah ! Gone were mirth and mischief then 
And Bess stood by, a maid demure, 
With pitying looks and fingers deft 
She into shreds her kerchief tore, 



38 



Bound up the wound, spoke words of cheer, 
Ah! Bess, what did your face reveal? 
For bashful John now spoke outright 
And quiet stood the spinning wheel. 



39 



*' 'The hurt the flyers make is slight, 
With deeper wound my heart is scarred, 
Heal this wound too, list to my plea, 
Too long the wheel and I have warred.' '' 



40 



"And did she then?" the children ask, 
'' Did this wild Bess her fault atone?" 
Just then within the open door 
Grandfather's smiling kind face shone. 



41 



"Eh ! Wife, what now, the children here ? 
What mischief do these rogues conceal? 
What have we here? Why bless my heart. 
It is your same old spinning wheel. 



42 



Good cause have I to know this wheel, 
Let me the busy flyers see. 
You mind the night they caught my hand? 
Look, here's the mark they left on me. 



43 



What's in the air?" Grandfather turns 
With puzzled look the group to view, 
But only hears the merry shout — 
"Oh ! Dear, sly Grandma, Bess was YOU. 



45 



In church-yard shade dear Grandma rests, 
And by her side sleeps Farmer John, 
The low white house is standing yet, 
But all the old-time folks are gone. 



46 



The spinning wheel no more abides 
With cobwebs wreathed in corner lone 
It rests with ribbons gayly decked, 
While memory speaks of Farmer John. 



47 



Still stand the beech-trees, o'er the spring 
With loving reach their branches spread, 
Beneath their shade the children play 
And youth and maiden softly tread. 



48 



And age walks there and dreams, and yearns 
For vanished hands and voices still, 
While mid the orchard's bloom as yore. 
The song-birds meet and love songs trill. 



49 



A cheer for Beech-Holm ! May the years 
Of shade and sunshine leave no blight, 
And Time still lightly lay his hand 
On this quaint dwelling "low and white." 



51 



11 i 






















0°' ,.i^^'>o .•»•*.»•'" 



* ^ ■^*-.*';7^o- X?.' 




• 1*°- <^^ jS> .*L^'* ■> 









%/ .'»fe°'. \./ .**Jfe'' ^-..^^ .' 



^3 











0-' 



^°-^<*-. , 




.V. "^^ *onO^ ^ O »,,,• ,VJ -^ -OHO 

<^J. O^ r « " • ♦ **C> \*^ • »• ' • - <^ (V IV * • ♦ 




